


Time Shift

by wirewrappedlily



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: I secretly love you babe but I torture you anyway, M/M, Reed is not as smart as he thinks he is, Time Travel, don't ask just read it, originally on my FF.Net, poor Johnny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirewrappedlily/pseuds/wirewrappedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reed Richards is the most idiotic genius Tony has ever met, and he's met some true idiots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Shift

_Nothing's going to be the same._

Whoever thought it would be a good idea to open up a time portal in the middle of his workshop was going to _pay_. The ruins around him loomed, and, at this rate, he was going to miss movie night with Steve, and that would lead to Steve's sad puppy-dog eyes, and that was just _un-fucking-acceptable_.

Especially since he was pretty sure it wasn't actually his fault that he would be missing movie night. Given the possibilities, it was probably Reed fucking Richards to blame, but _he_ would not be on the receiving end of Steve's small pout and big blue eyes.

It wasn't like Steve meant to do that, though. Tony wouldn't blame him for it, even if he did. But the one thing Steve consistently had no control of--other than that sound he makes when he's coming, or the blush Tony knows just the right buttons to push to receive--is his (insane-absolutely, _motherfuckingly_ ludicrous) idea that Tony would ever purposefully abandon him; that Tony would ever be capable of getting bored with that sound he makes or that goddamn blush. Tony made it his life's mission these days not to miss dates (78% success rate, thank you very much. Which was more than his board of directors could boast, as Pepper loved to point out), just to avoid the flash of insecurity in Steve's eyes. 'Cause he was sap now and he'd ruined his dastardly name by shacking up with Captain fucking America, but Tony's list of 'will never regret' consisted of two things: hiring Pepper Potts, and shacking up with Captain America.

Captain America who looked suspiciously like the man in military formal uniform sitting at a charred table in the middle of the ruins of some bar probably somewhere in France sometime during World War II. "Shit." Tony grumbled, eyes wide, and surprised, and so utterly busted as he stared across the charred remains of looted bar at the man he'd technically loved for years yet has yet to love (time travel, ain't it fun?).

Steve Rogers looked confused, and maybe just a little stricken, and Tony really can't deal with this, because he remembers Steve telling him about the time he'd tried to get drunk after Bucky had died, and this was kind of obviously that.

"Are you Steve Rogers?"

"How did you just appear like that?"

Tony's lips twitched at the question that almost blotted his out, his head tilting a little as he looked down, picking his way through the debris, "Well, if I have to venture an uneducated and completely unbiased guess, a supposed genius named Reed fucking Richards did something fucking stupid and landed me here from...oh, around seventy years in the future. Don't look so surprised, you've seen--or maybe you'll see, soon--shit far weirder than this." Tony dusted off a chair that had fallen over near the bar, trying to calculate if it was still structurally sound or if that was an actual piece of burned chair leg, not just a scorch mark.

Steve's eyebrows were going to migrate to the back of his head. Tony briefly considered making that the side-mission to his life's mission, because that would just be hilarious. "You...You know me?"

"Captain Steven Grant Rogers, commanding officer of the Howling Commandos, and all-around perfect specimen of a human being." Tony grinned as he draped himself over the chair. "You're a natural blond, you have hidden dimples, and you most beloved possessions are kept in a small, sturdy mahogany box that it took me three years, the world's best marksman, and a ninja-assassin to retrieve for you. Well, first two years it was for me. The last one was mostly slow-going on getting Clint and Tash to go get it. Took me an agreement to let Clint drive any one of my cars. Which was bad, bad decision making on my part. Just FYI." If Steve had looked confused as to why Tony had set his personalized ringtone to Sexyback, then he was completely fucking flabbergasted now. Mission: accomplished.

"I-I don't understand…"

Tony cocked an eyebrow, "What's your gut tell you, oh Captain, my Captain?"

Steve was chewing on his lower lip-a habit Tony had stopped by threatening to make out with Steve where ever they were, whatever they were doing if he abused that perfect bottom lip ever again. Steve had thought he was bluffing until Tony had pinned him to the conference room door in front of Fury.

Blue eyes Tony would never feel not-tingly at surveyed Tony up and down: the black wife-beater, cut to reveal the arc reactor; the ripped, stained jeans; the oil stains on his tan skin; and the brilliant, sharp, impossible smile coupled with glittering, mischievous black eyes. Tony had steam-punk-like welding goggles on his head, his hair a little too long, going to curls at the ends, and had this Steve been his Steve, they'd probably be completely unable to keep their hands off each other. As it was, Tony was curious to see if Steve was still such an easy touch, knowing nothing about Tony; not being in love. Was Steve the perfect prince Tony honestly thought he was, or was there a little room to wriggle into corrupting the valiant angel? "My gut's telling me that you're not lying." Steve said heavily, taking a pull from his glass.

Only Steve would have found himself a glass.

"But...seventy years…"

Tony filled with sadness, "You don't want to know." Tony's voice was strained, tight and pained. Seeing Steve in his time and place, it wasn't easy. What made it worse was that Steve wouldn't age anyway.

Steve took that at face value, and Tony wanted to tear out the reactor now, because it was better than dealing with how much his heart hurt and his throat closed _and he was not going to cry, dammit!_

"I can't say for sure, but I think you're at least not completely miserable seventy years from now."

Cunning flashed behind blue eyes, "You and I...we're close in the future?"

Tony held back a smirk, "Yeah. Yes we are."

"It's...it's allowed?"

Tony snorted: Steve apparently had an affinity for reading him, the giant fucking cheater. "It's allowed. It was actually a joint project of two government agencies with military support to get us together." Tony grinned at the memory, laughing at them both. "But the really fun one was that it took an alien invasion led by a Norse god, and the government trying to drop a weapon of mass destruction on Manhattan to get you to just not _hate me_."

"I'm sure that's not true."

Tony shrugged, "You're probably right: you didn't think I was worth the effort it would've taken to hate me, probably."

Steve frowned, looking down at his hand on the glass, "Why would I have hated you?"

Tony bit his own lip, looking abstractly at the bar, "You probably had your reasons. Everyone does."

"But you and I are together now...in your time...or-"

"Don't worry about tenses and all that. I'll confuse it just as much as you will, and you get this pinch in your forehead when you start giving yourself a headache that'll show in five seconds and counting. _Just don't try_. Yes, we're together."

Steve smiled, just a twitch of lips, but it counted. "My best friend died...and I couldn't stop it. The man that made me this way; he died, too. Couldn't stop that, either."

Tony reached across the table, taking Steve's hand off of his glass and flipping the palm up, examining if the callouses were the same, "Yeah, well: last week you jumped in front of a bullet that would've bounced off me; two days ago, you ran into a burning building to pull out a man that's literally impervious to harm; you took out half an army and three killer, mutant hornets because the ninja-assassin and I were being held hostage; and you nearly killed yourself helping us to get a friend back. Ever think that, maybe, the people you're meant to save are saved because the people you couldn't save died to save you?" Tony's finger traced over the life line of Steve's palm, deep and pronounced and seemingly never-ending. Tony looked up into Steve's eyes after a moment, "I'm not a witch with a crystal ball, Steve, but I think the resounding message from the people who've fallen so that you could be standing today...their message would be that they needed you to be here, the world needed you here, and that they'd never be sorry it was you and not them."

Steve swallowed, "Why would I have hated you?" Steve's voice was strained, and Tony should've pulled back sooner, because he'd seen sad-Steve before, and grief-stricken-Steve, and both usually led to him getting kissed senseless.

So, really, he should have seen _that_ coming. "Not fair, Rogers."

Steve kissed him quiet, and Tony couldn't exactly put up a fight here. Steve had them both on their feet, crushed together, arms hard with muscle that he was desperately using to protect Tony from the entire world, and Tony knew this Steve: he knew him well.

"God, Steve, I think this uniform is more unfair than the Kevlar and spandex!" Tony managed, panting slightly. Steve kissed him again-hard-and suddenly Tony found that the jacket was disappearing, and Steve was trying to get his hand under the hem of his shirt and undo his buttons with the other, which was not working for him.

Tony caught one long-fingered hand and Steve whimpered, an entirely different pinch forming between his brows, "Please, I-"

Tony never wanted to hear that tone in Steve's voice again. Tony thrust his tongue into Steve's mouth, pushing a thigh between his legs and undoing his tie and shirt with a practiced ease that left Steve gloriously half-naked in a matter of moments. Steve shuddered into him, and with three well-placed caresses, Steve was a mess in Tony's arms, mouth ruined and hair a mess and eyes blown wide and wanting. "This is...not what I'd want your first time to be, but, hell." Tony growled, because Steve would always be a blushing virgin, no matter how many times Tony had fucked him into a perfectly good mattress (even with the small, instinctual flare of jealousy Tony reflexively had any time his thoughts trained remotely close to whoever the bloody hell it was that took Steve's virginity during the war).

Steve shook his head, a breathless "don't care" making a grin break over Tony's features at the familiarity (count was now Tony's workshop, an air duct, a golf cart, a fountain, and three separate warzones, now including this one).

"Hey, when I get back to 2012, can you please remember that you love me?" Tony requested sweetly, making Steve moan brokenly into the open air as he did his damnedest to rock Steve Rogers' world.

~

"So, I realized something." Was the first thing Tony said when he stepped back into 2012 and tackled Steve with arms and legs and lips.

As always, Steve bore up remarkably well under being tackled by a grown man; and even better that that man went immediately for his jugular, trying to leave a hickey that would _last_ , dammit, "That you were the one that took my virginity in the war?"

"That I was the one that took your virginity in the war!" Tony smiled brightly, happily, practically singing as he released Steve's throat with a vulgar pop.

"That is so gross…" Johnny Storm grumbled, gagging from the Reed-machine he'd brought over to undo the damage.

"Shut up. And tell your idiot brother-in-law that while I will be sending him a fruit basket 'cause I'm the one that took Steve's virginity during the war, I will slap him silly, 'cause I really would rather not have been there to begin with!"

"So you would've had me crash that plane and freeze a _virgin_?" Steve sounded just aghast enough to be teasing him, his hold wrapping more solidly around Tony's body to keep him a tangled mass of limbs against Steve's chest.

"Well it would've been nice to have reassured you I wasn't going to leave if I could've stuck around and not left! You act like an amorous octopus when I try to get out of bed before your eight hours are up! I think if you'd had a little reassurance-"

"I act like an amorous octopus because you eventually give up on trying to fight it and end up sleeping for another five or six hours." Steve told him firmly, side-stepping the couch and all other convenient places to place his ass instead of in Steve's large and slightly grabby right hand. Tony would be perfectly fine with Steve wanting to act as his legs from now on: He may have gotten tetanus from fucking Steve into those army greens in the rubble of that bar (totally, totally worth it), this, with a side of more sex, would be completely acceptable reparations for making Steve fall apart three times on his first time out of the proverbial gate. "And, no, I don't count that as cheating. Mostly because, until last year, it was the best night of my life."

"And now?" Johnny was making sounds like he was going to remove his stomach through his throat if he had to listen to any more of this, so, naturally, Tony pressed on with all the cheer in the world.

"Remember the chocolate sauce?"

Tony's eyes lit up, his lip disappearing between his teeth, "That was a good night. I've been wanting to try that with doughnuts."

"It's okay, guys, I'll just never eat again!" Johnny gagged.

Steve started carrying Tony towards the elevators and, with any luck, to bed. Now Tony _was_ singing; "Blame your idiot brother-in-law!"


End file.
